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by Fire_Sign



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: A rainy Sunday morning, and some tooth-rotting fluff for Kanste's birthday. Even if it is late...





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kanste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanste/gifts).



> It was the lovely @kanste's birthday. There were Plans In Place. These plans went to hell, and backup plans were deployed. THESE plans went to hell, so she got this instead.

The sound of rain woke Phryne, and she stretched as she peeped through one eye. It was barely light, the sort of pre-dawn moment that one should only see on the way to sleep, and she promptly snuggled deeper into the blankets and continued to doze. The house was silent, the only sound the pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof.

After another hour she stirred again, looking around the still semi-dark room; the sunlight was masked by the heavy clouds, and the curtains were still drawn. Jack’s bedroom was as asteur as Phryne’s was luxurious, a testament to how little time he spent there. He’d said as much the first time she’d spent the night, half-apologetic for the lack of luxury; she’d laughed and pulled him into the bed, and not given it another thought.

She smiled softly at the memory, wondering where he’d gone this morning; he did have a habit of waking early, and she often found him in the study or the garden, looking deliciously at ease, or cooking breakfast for them both. The only way to find out was to look. Pushing the covers back, Phryne rose from the bed and glanced around--spotting Jack’s shirt from the night before, she quickly pulled it on and fastened enough buttons to keep it from falling off.

Examining herself in the mirror--bare feet, rumpled hair, the oversized shirt showing off her legs to their best advantage--Phryne smiled again; she’d considered bringing a robe with her, and she did have pyjamas somewhere in the room, but this was definitely preferable. Padding out of the bedroom, she noticed a dim light coming from the study and followed it. Jack was in an armchair, facing the fire--Phryne could make out the back of his head over the wingback, bent as if reading something. She stepped quietly, hoping the absorption would work in her favour.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher.”

She harrumphed--closer than usual, but still not successful. She took the final steps, dropping her arms over the back of the chair and around his neck, pressing her cheek against his. He was reading over their latest case.

“Anything new?” she asked, still sleepy.

“I think so,” he said, reaching up to tug at her hand. “Stealing my clothes again, are we?”

“Of course,” she laughed, rounding the chair and sliding easily into his lap; he clasped his arms around her waist. “They fit so well. You said you found something?”

He was in green silk pyjamas that she’d bought him for Christmas, leaving his throat exposed. She imagined nibbling her way along, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the tang of sweat and sleep luring her closer to draw a deep breath. She rested her head against his shoulder as he launched into an explanation about a contradiction in the witness statements that he wanted to chase up, feeling his voice vibrate in her own body.

“Phryne, are you listening?” he eventually asked.

“Mhmm,” she said. “You want to go speak with the priest again, see if he recognises our suspect.”

Jack nodded, and Phryne toyed with the button on his pyjamas.

“But as it’s a Sunday he’ll be at Mass until lunchtime, and it’s still raining,” she said, her voice a soft sing-song. “We could go back to bed, cozy up under the blankets, perhaps…” she spider-walked her fingers down his torso, “a few other activities?”

“Reading?” he asked, his expression entirely serious except for the devilish glint in his eyes.

“If you’d like,” she purred. “I find myself in an agreeable mood.”

The hand resting on her hip slid down the outside of her thigh, his fingers toying with the hem of the shirt.

“Do you plan on wearing this?” he asked.

“Would you like me to?”

His lips twitched with amusement.

“Well, it’s just rather distracting when I’m trying to read, and--”

“You poor dear,” she laughed, standing up. “How utterly cruel of me.”

Her fingers found the buttons, holding his gaze as she unfastened them, then allowed the shirt to fall to the floor without fanfare. His eyes flicked down her body once, a seductive smile slowly spreading across his face. When he spoke, his voice was husky; it sent a shiver through her.

“Much better.”

\------

Sprawled across the foot of the bed and utterly boneless, Phryne examined the wall. The rain was still hitting the roof, the light was still dim, the decor still asteur; but Jack was also in the bed, tucked under the covers and reading a book, and her body was still humming in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You know, Jack,” she said, rolling onto her stomach to look up where he was lying, “I’ve been thinking. Do you know that Margaret Preston I have hanging in my library? It would go wonderfully above your chest of drawers.”

“Is that so?” he asked, glancing up. He’d donned reading glasses as a concession to the poor lighting, and Phryne found herself contemplating whether they would have time for another round before leaving for the interview. Probably, if she could convince him to let her drive.

“Absolutely,” she said.

“Any particular reason for this observation, or…?”

“One ought to surround themselves with beauty,” she said conversationally, “even if it is just a bedroom.”

He smiled and set aside his book, then motioned for her to join him. She shifted up the bed and beneath the covers, wrapping herself around him. His body was solid beneath hers, and he drew his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I don’t think I’m doing too badly on that front,” he said, “but if you insist...”

Phryne hummed, feeling deliciously at ease and sleepy.

“I do,” she replied. “I’ll bring it with me next time I come around.”


End file.
